


Assassin's Creed: Redemption

by Emerald_Dragoness



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Drama, F/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Dragoness/pseuds/Emerald_Dragoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mission was simple. Help the new London Brotherhood to get to its feet.</p>
<p>“Mr. Frye. You startled me.” I breathed, and I was gifted with a deep laugh, his eyes twinkling mischievously at me.<br/>“I gathered as much.” He pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer, making me back up into the crates behind me. He placed a hand on the crates, his hand next to my face, as he leaned in closer, still wearing a smirk on his face. I was given the opportunity to stare into his eyes; hazel. “So tell me, why did Georgie send you here?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assassin's Creed: Redemption

London, 1868

 

 

 

The mission was simple. Help the new London Brotherhood to get to its feet.

George Westhouse had sent for me about two months ago. It was sort of a redemption mission.

“The Frye twins are young, and inexperienced. I heard about your mission four years ago, and while you may have failed in the eyes of the Council, I have a mission for you that can redeem you as an Assassin.”

I stepped off the train onto London’s busy streets. I had spent the last month at sea, coming across the Atlantic from America. The States were still in bad state four years after the official end of the Civil War. I held Westhouse’s letter in one gloved hand, realizing my clothes made me stick out like a sore thumb. I was wearing a long tunic with trousers underneath, tucked into my boots. The two hidden blades on my arms were the only comforting feeling I had at the moment. The long overcoat I had grabbed several towns back at least concealed the two pistols on my hips, along with the throwing knives and smoke bombs. I felt my face flush at the stares of several well dressed women, wearing sweeping skirts and hats with feathers, and I began walking down the street, my carrier bag slung across my body. I didn’t have any British money, and I had used the last of my American money paying for the passage here.

I looked at the letter again.

“Don’t worry about finding them. They will find you.” I read again. And below that, “You’ll probably meet Jacob first. Evie is hunting for a piece of Eden.” And nothing more. I sighed, grumbling.

“Awesome.” I muttered, shoving the letter into my pocket. Did they even know Westhouse had sent for me? Probably not. I looked around, taking in my surroundings. The city was busy with the sounds of any industrial city, and I couldn’t help but notice that there were no signs of war, no blown out buildings, no former slaves on the sidewalks, no war veterans begging for food. It was nice. However, the dull color of the sky made me squint, glancing out over the Thames at the billows of smoke that fed constantly into the sky. Atlanta was quite different.

For one, there were a _lot_ of people wearing awful green coats with matching hats. I wandered into a corner pub and listened in to a group of them in the corner, pretending to call the barkeep for a pitcher of ale. He gave me a queer look, but poured one for me anyway.

“You boys heard? The boss is going to be at the fight club tonight!” one of them was saying.

“Which fight club?” one of the few girls in the group asked, and that earned a round of laughter.

“The one here in Whitechapel. Boss said he needed a break after this last job he did.”

“Which job was that? I can’t hardly keep up with them Fryes.” And now my interest was definitely piqued.

“Does it really matter? We have the Blighters on the run and the Rooks are making things right!” and there was another round of cheers as they all drank to that statement. I took a sip of the ale and nearly choked. The taste was waaay different then what I was used to. I might have to stick to rum while I’m here…

I waited on these Rooks to finish their drinks and leave, and I slipped away before the barkeep could talk to me about money. I thought about scaling the buildings and following them from above, but I decided against it and followed the group at a distance. I took the opportunity following them to steal a coin purse or two, just to make sure I wasn’t completely empty handed.

I followed the group to a large pair of doors that seemed to lead to an underground warehouse. I remembered hearing about the underground railway that London had started several years ago, and it didn’t surprise me with the city being as old as it was. In the states nothing was very old, except for the trees and the mountains. And the trees were always being cut down, at that.

There were a lot of people milling around, and I was able to slide inside quietly, pulling my hood up over my head and heading to stand in a dark corner. I noticed I was quite possibly the only woman in the entire crowded room. There was a large ring in the middle of the room, with two men pounding each other with their fists, and the crowd around them was cheering them on. A man in a vibrant suit was taking bets, and that was when I caught my first look at Jacob Frye.

I’m not sure how I knew it was him, but I just…knew. Probably from how he carried himself, as if he owned the building we were in. He was shirtless, his fists done up in white bandages for the fight. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander over his muscled torso. He was built like a brawler, broad shoulders, a flat muscled stomach, and toned arms with no hint of any fat at all on his bones. The hair on his chest wasn’t as thick as several of the other men who were sizing each other up for the fight, and I couldn’t help but bite the corner of my lip as I saw how the hair made a neat line down past his navel, where a red sash was the belt to his pants. He had a tattoo, the symbol of what appeared to be the Rooks on the upper part of his chest, and next to it on his arm was an intricate cross tattoo.

Despite his body being extremely attractive, so his face was just as gorgeous. Just the look on his face was enough to make mine flush. He cast his eyes around the room, cracking his knuckles as he did so. His hair was slicked back, the shadow of mutton chops on his face, a large scar on his cheek cutting into the one side. He had another scar running across the end of the opposite eyebrow, and all in all, he was just a gorgeous looking man. He had a necklace, with a shilling on it, and it accentuated his collar bones nicely.

I shook my head, reminding myself I was here on a mission, not to ogle the half naked man in the fighting ring. And then he seemed to stare right at me. And I felt the flush spread up my neck as he smiled a dazzling smile. But then his gaze turned away, and I realized I’d been holding my breath as I heard the man with the overly flashy clothes begin the fight.

I watched as three other men jumped in the ring with Mr. Frye, and for a moment I wondered why. Until I saw him beat the hell out of all three in under two minutes. Four more men jumped in the ring afterwards, and I was entranced as I watched him fight. He had all the grace and power of a master Assassin, that was for sure. It was obvious, that he was on a completely different level then the men that kept coming at him. The cock sure grin he wore on his face as his fist connected with someone’s face was a sign that he knew it, too.

I folded my arms across my chest, leaning against the wall, hidden in the shadows of a large pile of crates. I wondered about the mission George Westhouse had put me on. _To aid and abed the Frye twins in their endeavor to free London from Templar control, by staying true to the Creed._ I ran over the words in my mind for the millionth time, having had a couple months to stew over them already. Quite possibly one of the most important missions of my life, I had already failed it. London was a chance to redeem myself. I would just have to deal with the fact that Jacob Frye was irritatingly handsome. Any update I had on London was old news; I’d have to speak to the twins themselves for new developments. I returned my gaze to the fighting ring as a loud cheer went up.

The man in funny clothes was holding Jacob’s fist in the air, declaring him the new champion. I smirked, seeing men begin to haul away the unconscious fellows lying about the ring. As Jacob retreated into a back room, I began to wonder how I’d introduce myself. He seemed quite the popular fellow, overhearing the Rooks around me talk about him as the ‘Boss’ and how work was never done. In fact, this fight had been a part of his ‘work’. I wondered about that, but stayed where I was as people began to disperse, the man in the funny clothes yelling loudly for them all to come back next week for another spectacle. So far, it seemed as though no one had noticed me, and that suited me just fine. I pushed myself off the wall, about to go find Jacob-

“It’s not often you find a woman in the fight club.” The deep, British voice almost right next to me startled the shit out of me, and I almost turned one of my blades on the speaker in surprise until I saw that it was Jacob Frye, leaning against the wall, a shit-eating grin on his face. He had dressed, looking sharper then I had expected in a long coat, a waistcoat and a top hat, as he twirled a cane in one hand. The shirt beneath the waistcoat was unbuttoned to reveal his necklace, and damn did he look…sexy. Despite myself, I felt the heat rising to my face once more, and I put a hand to my chest to calm my frantic heart. It wasn’t often someone snuck up on me.

“Mr. Frye. You startled me.” I breathed, and I was gifted with a deep laugh, his eyes twinkling mischievously at me.

“I gathered as much.” He pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer, making me back up into the crates behind me. He placed a hand on the crates, his hand next to my face, as he leaned in closer, still wearing a smirk on his face. I was given the opportunity to stare into his eyes; hazel. “So tell me, why did Georgie send you here?” he used his other hand to wave George’s letter in my face. When did he-?!

“If you read it, then you should know.” My voice came out as a purr, surprising myself. Perhaps it was because of his close vicinity? His smirk broadened, as he leaned in a bit closer. I could feel his hot breath on my face, and it made my mouth go dry.

“I was hoping the lovely American would tell me herself.” He growled, and I swallowed, returning his flirtatious smirk and raising an eyebrow. I used one hand to remove my hood, and I couldn’t help but feel a tremor of self satisfaction as Jacob’s eyes did a quick, appreciative up and down of me. I reached forward, grabbing George’s letter, leaning in closer to Jacob’s face, our lips barely a breath apart, my eyes half lidded as I smiled at him.

“I am here to aid and abed the Frye twins in taking back London from the Templars, you see.” I purred at him, pulling the letter from his hand as I did so. Jacob still wore a half smile on his face, his eyes unreadable. “My services as an Assassin are at your disposal.” I ducked quickly, escaping the corner Jacob had put him in, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief at putting some physical distance between myself and the very tempting Mr. Frye. Jacob’s eyes followed me like a cat on the prowl, dropping his arm from the crates to move towards me.

“And what might your name be, fellow Assassin?” he spread his arms wide, and I noticed the mechanism of his hidden blade on his left forearm. A quick up and down revealed he had several more weapons hidden from view, and I smiled at him.

“Rachel Griffon, born and raised in Boston.” I said, mimicking his pose, bowing slightly as I did.

“Two hidden blades?” he asked, a tone of surprise in his voice. I shrugged.

“It gets the job done.”

“So, now that that’s out of the way…” if I hadn’t been on my guard he may have caught me, but since I was, I was able to parry his sudden blow with his own hidden sword (a cane sword, how appropriate). However, in the spur of the moment, he was able to grab the collar of my shirt and before I could react, he had me pinned against the wall, the only thing keeping his blade from pressing against my throat was _my_ blade, barely blocking it. Westhouse had mentioned the twins were only 21; but you would never have guessed it with Jacob. Jacob’s face was dangerously close, and I recognized the intent to murder in his eyes. “How do I know you’re not working for Starrick?” I snorted; at least he’s cautious.

“You don’t, you just have my word and George Westhouse’s.” I was straining against him, doing my best to keep our blades away from my throat.

“Alright fine, so tell me something only an Assassin would know.”

“I’m the great-great-granddaughter of Edward Kenway.” I blurted, and Jacob blinked. “Oh come on, you know, Edward the pirate? His son Haythem was a Templar but then _his_ son Connor was an Assassin who fought in the American Revolution?” Jacob didn’t budge for a moment, but then he suddenly released me, deftly replacing his sword into his cane.

“You sound like Evie. That’s good enough for me.” I breathed a sigh of relief, retracting my hidden blade as I did so.

“Very well Mr. Frye-“

“Please, call me Jacob.” And there was the cock sure smirk again, and I raised an eyebrow at him, unable to hide my smile.

“Alright, _Jacob_ ,” I said, and his grin widened, as though he had just won some sort of battle, “Where do we go from here?”

**Author's Note:**

> I foresee so much angst and drama in the future~!  
> Please let me know what you think.


End file.
